Practice makes Perfect
by Arachnomadness
Summary: Daine wasn’t always a deadly aim with any type of bow. This fic depicts her at times somewhat pitiful struggles to actually HIT the target when she was still learning. Oneshot. Please Read and review!


_Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tammy's books! (duh)_

Daine released the string on her bow with a twang, jerking her arm upwards as the arrow shot out of the bow. Her grandfather ducked as the shaft zipped past his left ear, a full three meters from the target. He straightened, grinning.

"Hold it steady! Try again."

With a snort, the nine-year-old girl bent and knocked another arrow to her bow. She raised the wood up to her eye and took careful aim. Pulling the string slowly back, Daine checked the target once more, and let go.

This time the arrow fell from the string prematurely, rolling a mere two meters from her booted foot.

With a laugh, her grandfather strode over to where she stood dejectedly. "You can aim correctly one time and get the right amount of power in the shot on a different try, but never both at once."

He picked up another arrow and took the bow from her. Although he was not a tall man, her grandfather seemed to dwarf the beginner's bow as he set the arrow and fired in a single effortless motion. The shaft buried itself near the middle of the target with a soft thud.

"Why does it look so easy when you shoot? Whenever I try, the arrow goes the wrong way. I can't do this." Daine stuck out her lower lip in a pout, her dark curly hair falling across her face.

Her grandfather tenderly brushed the dark locks from her forehead and re-tied the leather thong at the back of her head. "Practice makes perfect, Daine. Keep trying." He offered her the bow.

Daine gripped the bow and snatched an arrow from the deerskin quiver on the ground near their feet. Without bothering to aim, she yanked the bowstring back to her chin and released. Out of luck, the arrow flew straight.

Leaping with excitement, Daine ran to the hay bale target and danced up and down in front of the shaft stuck in the outermost circle. "I did it! Just like that!"

"Daine, wonderful shot!" Her grandfather joined her next to the target and shook her hand in congratulations.

"Ow!" Daine pulled out of his grasp and inspected her forearm with a pained expression on her face. "Look, grandda. I'm _wounded_."

Her grandfather leaned forward and peered and the pale skin of her arm. A tiny scratch from the bowstring ran from her elbow to her wrist. "Well I'll be, Daine. You certainly are!" He swept her up onto his shoulders and bent to pick up the quiver and arrows. "You know what this calls for? I think we'd better get home to your momma so she can make you a special pie for dinner. Which do you like best, raspberry or huckleberry?"

Daine giggled, smoothing her skirts and fluttering her eyelashes in imitation of a fancy court lady. "Why, I don't know. Hmm . . . how 'bout . . . RASPBERRY!"

Her grandfather chuckled. "Raspberry it is, miss Daine. Homeward bound!"

He started to walk back to their cabin, with his granddaughter perched upon his shoulders.

"Wait!" Daine waved her arms in front of his face. "Stop coach!"

He lifted her gently down.

"What now, sweet?"

She ran over to the target and tugged upon the arrow she had shot. The shaft stayed firmly put.

Her grandfather ambled slowly over and reached a hand out to help.

"No, grandda! This is my arrow." She pulled with all her might -which was barely enough to draw a bowstring- and ground her teeth in frustration. "Come out!"

The arrow pulled suddenly loose, and she fell over backwards. With a chortle, she sat up, proffering the shaft for appraisal. "Looky! It's my lucky arrow."

Her grandfather pulled her to her feet and crouched down so they were at eye level.

"You take care of that shaft, missy. It's yer first good shot."

Her smile faded and she stared at him in perfect understanding, her fist tightening around the wood of the arrow. Grey eyes regarded him, filled with depth. She shattered the moment of silence by grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him towards home, yelling, "Come on, grandda!"

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A woman of medium height with auburn hair that fell in soft waves on either side of her face picked her bow up slowly but with confidence. She was a common-born girl but, as her opponents were about to find out, a deadly aim with a bow. Daine drew back the cord of her longbow gracefully. Her brow creased in concentration as she sighted down the shaft with an experienced eye. A crowd of pages sprawled lazily on the grass nearby, jeering and laughing. Diane stood tall, ignoring their taunts, her entire awareness centered upon the target twenty meters away. She was about to shoot, when her friend and longtime traveling companion Onua tapped her shoulder. With a sigh, Diane released the pressure on the bow. Onua slid something into her hand and whispered quietly to her. Daine looked down.

_My lucky arrow._

She glanced up at Onua and nodded ever so slightly. Then, in a rush of energy, Daine lifted her bow, now knocked with her lucky shaft, and released!

The arrow whistled as it flew through the air with deadly accuracy to pierce the exact center of her target.

A moment's silence followed, then the pages leapt to their feet, applauding with enthusiasm. Onua clapped her on the shoulder and nodded at the boys. "You sure showed them!"

Daine lifted her face to the cloudy sky and smiled, closing her eyes.

_If only grandda could see me now._


End file.
